


like a sickness fades

by gabriphales



Series: gomens drabble hell [74]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, offscreen/implied animal death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:27:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25658170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: the trouble with being the only angel on earth mostly comes from how lonely he is. aziraphale's constant company meets the end of her mortal cycle, and crowley comes to soothe his wounds
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: gomens drabble hell [74]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664713
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	like a sickness fades

**Author's Note:**

> hi i wrote this solely to comfort myself bc my old dog isnt feeling well and im fearing the worst. apologies for it making no sense

aziraphale had known it would be a bad idea. from the very beginning, he'd known. decades passed like hours according to his sense of time. the years could warp and whistle into all sorts of confusing, muddled, ugly-grey shapes, and he'd keep on living. regardless of how little he enjoyed the fevered speed.

perhaps that's why he'd taken her in in the first place. he'd wanted somebody to slow the pace down, keep him steady.

twenty years is quite old for a dog. for aziraphale, he knows he can't prolong the inevitable. there's only so much life an angelic miracle can offer. there's only so much comfort he has to share.

and, facing the facts he'd rather look away from, he has to admit what he already knows - she doesn't want to be here anymore. she's tired, she's _sore._ like an overripe peach that goes sickly, leaking the nectar that had once kept it plump and rich. once full of life, glowing in the sentimental beauty of such short golden years. or days, in the peach's case.

he's too attached for his own good. that's what gabriel had told him during their last meeting. making an appearance at the bookshop without warning, he'd poorly disguised his judgment when the little dog came limping out, eager to grab a sniff of the familiar face. she always did love the smell of lavender.

( _does,_ he reminds himself. she does love lavender. there isn't a past tense to indulge.)

crowley comes over the night he knows it's happening. he doesn't even have to be told - he can tell by the tone in aziraphale's voice, the scratchy audio that comes through his phone, that he's needed. and good god, does aziraphale need him so.

he must be a terribly selfish angel, he can hardly stand to be in the same room as her. his own dying dog, wilting with every second, greying to her roots. it's too much for him. he counts the seconds between each breath, and when a proper pause takes hold of his own air, he cracks. a sniffle, perhaps even a wet, teary-eyed gasp, thinking she's finally passed. but she always rises at the first sound of distress, lifting her head to lick at the salt left behind on aziraphale's hand. he can't stop rubbing his eyes now. it's honestly embarrassing.

"come on, angel, don't stress yourself this way." crowley tells him, all milky-toned and molasses. "rest your head for a bit, you're getting pale."

"i can't," aziraphale shakes his head, only shuffling closer to the terrier at his side. "she needs me here."

crowley's eyes center in on him, and his mouth pulls into a thin, straight line. "you're going to lay down, and do exactly as i tell you to."

" _you_ are not in control of me! i do not follow orders." aziraphale says, temper flaring in the worst of ways.

"then - damnit, angel, d'you want me to just help her along now?"

"no!" aziraphale insists, a hand instinctively reaching down to shelter his dog. she nuzzles her head against his palm, and he flinches - hopefully she doesn't notice.

"i'm just saying, seems like it would be a lot easier on you." crowley says, that same wretched look on his face that he'd had the first time he suggested the arrangement. as if this were something aziraphale could be talked into. as if all it'd take was a little goading, a little reassurance, and he'd let crowley have his way.

this isn't like that. he's already made up his mind.

"listen, i - if you could just lay with me, warm my bed for some time, i might be convinced to leave her where she is. however - " he lets a beat pass, making sure the severity of his stubbornness would settle into crowley. "no speeding things up. do i make myself clear?"

"alright, angel. whatever you say." crowley concedes, following close behind when aziraphale stands, starting off for the bedroom.

they've slept together before. in both senses, technical and suggestive. but aziraphale knows this time will be different. even when a quick miracle douses him in more comfortable clothes, his stomach still sours, and his chest burns. resting fingers against his pulse point, he can feel it hammering away. nonstop, belligerent as it's always been, always will be.

"i'm frightened," he admits, pulling the quilts up to his chin. 

"i know." crowley lays beside him, not yet daring the tender sensitivity of touch.

"i don't want to let go." 

"i know."

aziraphale inhales, clenching on the breath before he releases. "do you think i'm too attached?"

he can feel the pillows rustling behind him. crowley is shaking his head. 

"alright. thank you." he mutters. "could you hold me? just for tonight?"

"of course, sweetheart." crowley promises, latching onto aziraphale as a newborn latches onto fresh milk.

a bit of demonic intervention sways aziraphale to the gentle sin of sloth, and he dozes off without trouble. even then, crowley stays in one spot. determined to wait with aziraphale for as long as it takes. 

if he can't let go, crowley won't either.


End file.
